The Wedding He Stole Was My Great Escape novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: Don't Be Late

I bailed him out anyway.

It cost eleven hundred dollars of my savings, and fourteen hours on a plastic chair under a fluorescent light.

Greta sat beside me with a bag of chips and her feet up on the next chair.

"This is insane," she said. "You've known him four days."

"Five."

"Oh, five. That's totally different."

"He didn't do it," I said.

"You don't know that."

"I know he stood at the back of a room and kept his hands open while two guards walked him out."

She ate a chip and looked at me for a long moment.

"You kissed him," she said.

My ears went hot.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"You haven't looked at your phone in an hour. You keep touching your mouth." She grinned. "Mireille Fairbanks, ER night nurse, falls for the town stalker."

"He's not a stalker."

"I know. I'm kidding. Mostly."

At nine that night the desk sergeant called Jasper's name.

He came through the steel door with a paper bag in his hand and a bruise on one wrist from the cuffs.

His face went blank when he saw me.

"I told you not to," he said.

"I heard you."

"Mireille, go home. Go back to Greta's. This is going to get worse."

"Worse than what?"

He did not answer.

"Lorna posted something," Greta said quietly. "An hour ago. You should see it."

She held out her phone.

Lorna sat on a white sofa with her knees drawn up, in the blue cardigan, filmed in soft window light.

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